The Inner Pathos

The tale of a man unable to express his love for a woman who has thrown herself at him many of times.

He sat awkwardly on top a wooden stool outside his home. It was spring and the last embrace of winters kiss had left the night before. A group of birds sang humbly near the old iron gate that shaped the surroundings of his yard. He rubbed his fingers quickly across his freshly shaven chin allowing the smoothness to comfort his thoughts. He shaved only once a year along with a clean trim of his long knotted locks. He was known for his hair. Mainly because he was the only man in Millbrook to have hair longer than bar maids. The years followed him through his hair, grasping on to all his memories and experiences. A middle aged man he was now, the scars and winkles showed shadowing in his youthful beauty.  He had the most charming eyes. Women would whisper of the melody they heard when he stared at them.  “He’s heavenly,” they would say, and continue with an annoying giggle that would irritate even the modest of people.

            As he sat atop the stool he watched the birds and the trees moving in sync with one another. The view was breathtaking. He had waited through the winter to catch even the slightest hint of life. He felt so empty during the winter. He would seldom leave his home and when he would it was only to the store for groceries. 

            “Well good morning to you Mr. Lombardi. I didn’t think I would see the likes of you for another week or so.”  He turned towards the voice. It was Marry Summers, the local flower shop girl who would tend to his gardens during the spring. He let out a gentle smile and stood from his resting place. He had always admired Marry. Her long golden hair was a joyous sight, and of course the stunning youthful figure became more pleasant every year. She had with her at all times a locket made from silver. A stranger gave it her three years ago on his way through town. He said it had always brought him good pathos, and now that he was on his way to the endless fields of happiness he no longer needed it.

            “Well no need to get up from your comfort Tom, I was only coming up here to check on the lilies.” She approached him with her arms wide and gave him a hug. The warmth of her body gave him chills, “Well, I wouldn’t want to be rude Marry. How is your day going so far?” She grinned and walked over to the neatly placed garden by the front of his house. She wore a long yellow dress with white trimming around the arms and neck. It fit her perfectly.

“Oh I guess as well as any day here in Millbrook. You know I was going to stop by yesterday to drag you from your grave, but I figured I would wait till the smoke stopped boring from your chimney.” He laughed and walked up beside her to watch as she fluffed the simple pleasures of his life. 

“Well I guess that’s about how my day is going. I noticed a group of people heading over to the Banters place, is a party in the brewing?” She remained silent for a moment while she tilled the dirt around the flowers and then rose up to meet his gaze. Her eyes were a honey brown resting in a sea of cream. He had always wanted to stare at her eyes, for they brought him much comfort but the beauty was too much for even him.  

“You know I’m not really sure Tom, my guess is as good as anyone’s. The Banters are always planning something. Heaven forbid they spend a day without showing off their passions.” He cringed at the thought. He had attended one these parties only once in his lifetime. The image still haunted him. He turned then from Marry and walked slowly over to the gate where he had a basket of peaches. As he held the ripe juicy fruit, he imagined holding Marry in his arms. He felt at times like consuming her, like one would a piece of fruit. The sweetness clouded his mind. She produced so much happiness for him. A happiness only found in fairy tales.  His thumb moved over the peach, brushing every strand of loose hair. The colors collided in his mind and for nearly a second he swore he could see her in the peach.

“I see the pickens been well this year,” Marry stated from behind him. Her voice startled him. A hand came over his shoulder and grabbed a peach from the basket. She smelled of roses and honeydew. An overwhelming urge hit him. He turned quickly towards her and grabbed her by the arms. She gasped. His hollow eyes met her frightened gaze. A feasting hunger built up inside him. But her lips, ripe and plump like the peach caught his attention and with a passion more grand then life itself he kissed her. For a moment they were lost in the embrace. His thoughts swam freely with the wind, crossing over the oceans and into the deepest secrets of Avalon. Her grip grew firm on his arm bringing him back from salvation. He restrained himself and backed away.

“I…..I…..I don’t know what to say Marry. I am so sorry I will be going now.” He didn’t stay to hear a response or even stare at those honey eyes for one last time. He swung the door open to his coffin and into the darkness of his mind. Sickened by his lack of control and eagerness to consume her, he wept for the remainder of the day.

A soft knocking came at his door when the moon was brightest. He pulled himself from his resting place and opened the door. It was Marry. Tears ran from her swollen eyes, the dirt from the days labor still stained her silky hands.

“Do not speak Tom. I am not here to yell at you for what happen earlier today. I want you only to listen.” He awaited her to continue but the pounding of his heart made him feel so alive. “I am not angry with you Tom. I too share the same feelings as you.  I can not explain it nor do I intend to try. I only wish to hear you speak the words that you so passionately showed me today. Speak them truly Tom for I can not follow without them.”   He watched her for sometime before working up his courage to speak. Tears formed in his eyes for the words were lost to him. He stood there naked against the bitterness of his heart. As the night turned into morning he found himself sitting atop the wooden stool holding closely to his heart the locket of Marry Summers. He could not speak the words he had so longingly wished to release. “Pathos” he said allowed “where are my pathos”. A single tear struck the locket clearing off the dust that gathered on it. He had been in constant winter. And as he threw on his over coat and headed over to the Banters for the party, he could swear he smelled the roses and honeydew once more. When he approached the house of brick and oak he stared at its abstract figure. Crawling out towards the sky begging for the freedom of the birds. A sign had been placed out front with vibrant yellow ribbons. He glared at the sign and for a moment repeated the words that were placed upon it “In remembrance of Marry Summers”. And as the words finally made their way to his lips, he fell upon the drying earth clinching the locket to his heart. “Pathos” he whispered aloud and fell humbly into a deep sleep where he would await the spring and the coming of Marry Summers.    

Author's Note

Ignore grammar problems.

Reviews

[Jujubee_:]]

Whoa, intense. It felt like i was there, nice. This so beautiful..I love it.

[deeps]

Quite the remarkable read. Interesting and held attention. Found it magical and beutiful. Wonderful write.